Monstrous
by gote
Summary: Dive headfirst into the mind of Millicent Bullstrode, but be warned; you may not like what you find there. -Written for the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition-


_**prompt: **a rare pairing (under 2000 archived fics) of two Slytherins._

_**competition: **__The Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition, round three._  


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**Monstrous**

I am so fucking ugly.

A guy once told me that he couldn't help but throw up in his mouth when he saw me. It doesn't matter that that is one of the most unattractive things I've ever heard because he can smile at babies without making them cry and whenever he looks in the mirror he probably doesn't want to die.

Don't tell me to just stop complaining. Don't say just do something about it. You don't think I've tried. You don't think I've poured over magazines, over spell books? You don't think I haven't been down the darkest, dingiest alleyways and made deals with devils barely disguised?

You don't think I've tried?

I've tried. I've worn myself down to the bone, _trying_.

I read and I read and it only turns my eyes to red, and slathers dark bruises under my eyes.

I do all the spells I dare, and I keep getting more daring. I'm not a good witch. My magic's like the rest of me; a disappointment.

But one day I probably will push it too far, and I won't even have a face, I'll have a bruise of features, an extra nose, no eyes. From the way people carry on, you'd think I looked that way already.

Stop telling me I'm ugly. I know, I know, I _know._ I see it, I feel it, I am it.

I've moved beyond magic too. The purity of my blood isn't enough to save me, I know that. Don't think there's anything I won't do. Desperation is simply a side effect for my crippling disorder, my cure, my bane.

Don't you understand? I'm hideous. That means I'm undeserving of happiness. Don't pretend that isn't how it goes. I know, I _know. _

You hear my name, you see my face, you know my house; you call me evil, you turn away.

Don't feel bad. I'd do the same.

If there's anything that even hints that it can make me resemble anything but me, I'll try it.

Powders, creams, ribbons, bows, brushes, dyes, paints, tans.

I've had them all thrown at me, and it hurts. Not the collision, not because I don't know I need to change or I don't like to be reminded -ha, trust me on this one, I don't need reminding- but because they don't work.

I'm a hag, I'm a toad. You can't pretty up a pile of shit. It's still exactly what it is. If anything, a piece of shit powered pink is even worth than a plain one. Look at it, trying so hard. Look at it, failing so miserably.

You're not fooling anyone. I'm not fooling anyone.

You should see how they laugh. Look! Millicent Bullstrode with a _bow_ in her hair. Why do you even bother brushing it, Millie? It doesn't make a difference.

Don't even mention my name. Please, just don't mention my name.

I wonder, sometimes, if it sounds so awful because it's my name and it's describing me. Or did I grow to match its hideousness? Am I only fulfilling the legacy my parents left for me? Like inheriting the worst selection of genes on offer wasn't bad enough.

I hate them I hate them I hate them.

I hate them like I hate the girls in my dorm. Pretty pretty girls. Pretty, chatty, _friendly_ girls.

I hate how they act so nice. They're not nice. They're vile. I can see through their smiles, I feel the sword in their words.

I hate them I hate them I hate them.

I hate the boys. They're all prettier than me. It isn't fair it isn't fair it isn't fair.

And I hate one of them most of all.

He's prettier than the rest of them. Prettier than me. Prettier than Pansy, prettier than Draco, prettier than Daphne.

He's the most stuck up twat I have ever had the misfortune of meeting, and every time I see him I get so sure I'm just going to die. The sped up heart, the weak knees, the utter shame at even existing alongside him.

And I don't want to die.

It's the only time I don't want to.

Why would I want to move onto another life, one without the miracle that is his face?

He makes me sound like some lovesick teenager, and I don't love him, I hate him.

I hate his quiet. I hate his mystery. I hate his funny quips and the way I giggle -like a girl, I never feel like a girl, but he does it, he does it to me. I hate that way his mouth quirks up in a way that only teases the hint of a smile. I hate the way others look at him. I hate the way he doesn't look at me.

I wish he'd look at me. Call me a dog, a bitch, a hag. I wish he'd laugh in my face, kick me when I was down.

I wish he'd be anything like the rest of them.

I wish I'd be anything but invisible to him.

Who knew there was a worse feeling than ugly? There is. It's feeling like nothing. When it's not even worth resting your eyes upon someone for a second. When it's better to look anywhere but at them.

I hate Truth or Dare.

Don't a give me a truth. Do I look like I've kissed anyone? And there's no one I like- there's no one there's no one there _isn't._ Don't pretend there's going to be any other questions asked. There never is. No, it's time for me to go to bed and to bury my head under the covers and pretend like I don't want to hear. I listen, I can't help but listen. I despise myself for it but what other way do I have to live, but through the lives of others?

Don't give me a dare. You're just trying to humiliate me. I can't stand to see rejection, disgust- I can't stand to look in anyone's eyes at all. Just please, please no, not me, _please_.

They drag me in, but they don't dare me, and for a moment I'm fool enough to believe I'm safe.

I'm never safe. They'll never stop.

"Blaise," smirks Pansy, and even before she says it I feel my stomach sink to the floor. Please, _no._ "I dare you to kiss Millie."

I see the way his lips curl up. I see the way this is the last thing on this Earth that he wants to do.

And then all I see is red.

* * *

Maybe it'd be easier, being so ugly, if I didn't have such a horrid personality to match.

But I'm not sorry. I won't say I'm sorry.

I won't apologise for being the monster you made me into.


End file.
